I’m reading a book at the moment called Game Control, by Lionel Shriver (author of the amazing We Need to Talk About Kevin). It’s about aid workers in Africa and the overpopulation crisis.
I have nothing really to add to what is already a thoroughly exhausted debate about whether or not we are actually experiencing, or about to experience, an overpopulation crisis. However, for your viewing pleasure, I present an alternative take on this planet-wide slow-motion epic fail.
My favourite quotes:
“I don’t give a flying ferdoodle what happens to other species, ’cause humans are IT. There is no overpopulation of people.”
“God will not allow there to be a shortage of anything, that’s the main point here.”
So no worries then.
The guy who made this video is seriously great, and I think you really need to check out his YouTube channel. He’s also debunked the myth that smoking is bad for you, the myth of global warming and the myth of peak oil. He’s sort of a 21st century… debunking… WARRIOR. Fighting the good fight against the damn liberals.
Today’s my last day at the job I’ve been in for the past year and four months. I’m about two parts sad, one part excited and one part panic face. In honour of my imminent departure, here is a list of five things I’m going to miss about my company. And, just to keep the equilibrium, also a list of five things I will not miss at all.
things I will miss
The two funniest, loveliest, meanest, cleverest, annoyingest, coolest boys in London.
Walking out of Piccadilly Circus tube station every morning, looking up and blinking in awe at whatever amazing stroke of good fortune landed me a job in such a place.
The best sushi in London (in my humble, probably misguided and definitely biased opinion): Kulu Kulu.
The intensely hilarious and rampant (but good-natured) cultural insensitivity in the marketing department, which is only allowed to survive because we are oh-so-multicultural and equally insensitive about ourselves as about each other.
Our marketing director’s strange, mildly creepy, unnatural and hysterical relationship with the kangaroo hand puppet I brought back from Australia last year.
(Okay, six things.) Adore Patisserie, the little French place around the corner that makes the most brilliant cup of coffee for £1.50, and the three super friendly and multilingual guys who run it.
Did I mention the boys? Well, I’m mentioning them again.
things I will not miss
The dodginess of our weird Flavia coffee machine.
*Facepalming* due to unavoidable interaction with some of the cretinsDaily Mail readersoxygen thieves people from ad sales.
The seriously unkind lighting in the ladies’ room.
The strangely frequent and often noisy roadworks that always seem to be directly outside our building. What are they building out there?!
The weird alarm test thing in our office that goes off like a heart attack at random points during the day, making everyone jump and taking approximately ten years off each of our lives with every five-second ear-bleeding beep.
I have had just about as much as I can take of all the H1N1 talk.
Henceforth there shall be no more swine flu gags any time someone sneezes, or coughs, or sniffles, or says they feel sick, or says they feel cold, or makes any remark whatsoever about their personal wellbeing.
There shall be no daily London victim tally when I get to work in the morning, and nobody shall speak of the aporkalypse over dinner – especially in public spaces, i.e. restaurants. I do not care that a 22-year-old man in Barnet is currently in hospital with It Which Shall Not Be Named. I do not want to know about the honeymooning couple in Edinburgh either. 12,000 people in England are killed by regular flu every year. Do you see me chalking up those numbers on the office wall every fucking day?
There shall be no recommendations that I wear a facemask, and no reminders to wash my hands. I already have a hand-washing fixation bordering on obsessive compulsive, I don’t need the threat of the Baconic Plague to push me over the antiseptic edge. And let it be known that the first person I see in London wearing a facemask is getting a smack.
The one thing that is still acceptable is, of course, swine flu punning (e.g. if you get a rasher put some oinkment on it, it’s Parmageddon, watch out for hamthrax, etc). In fact, it is an activity that I thoroughly endorse. Best swine flu pun left in the comments wins a prize. I don’t know what that prize is yet, but it will be good. It may also be themed.
